


Red Snow

by Tiofrean



Series: The Lost Winter [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, the lost winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:03:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: During the Lost Winter, Daryl and Rick need to hole up for the night. It brings them closer than they thought it could...(Sorta continuation, but can be totally read as a standalone fic.)





	Red Snow

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea to write another part for that Lost Winter timeline... It's all happening between season 2 and 3, when our boys get closer during the cold days and colder nights... 
> 
> Betaed by MermaidSheenaz - Dziękuję, Słonko <3 :3 
> 
> Enjoy!

There was snow everywhere, and even if Rick had liked it back in the old world, now he couldn’t help but feel weary seeing it. It was cold, a lot colder than the last winter he remembered, and he just wanted to find a warm spot somewhere and sit down for a bit.

“Hey,” Daryl called to him, and Rick jerked his head up, finally tearing his eyes away from the white ground. “In here.” Daryl pointed at something, so Rick followed his fingers, spotting a rather big shed, overgrown with wild branches. It was sitting at the edge of the forest, next to a huge field, and looked like some sort of a fairytale cabin - a better part of it covered in thick layer of snow, the entrance almost completely blocked by twigs and dry leaves.

They had been looking for supplies for the better part of that day, their family tucked safely away in a small house about three miles down the road. Daryl and Rick had wandered out into the woods, following a small path leading out of the forest in hope of discovering some kind of settlement that would have food stash or other necessities.

_They were running low on everything._

“Got you covered,” Rick said, raising his Colt and checking the sides, while Daryl knocked on the side of the shed. If there were any walkers inside, that would get their attention. It was a tactic they had all learned sometime during the early winter - a tactic that guaranteed they didn’t land themselves in a room full of walkers.   
“Clear,” Daryl barked out a moment later, peeking inside, then turning to look back at him.   
“Yeah, it’s quiet here, too.” Rick nodded and holstered his Python. He walked up to Daryl, checking the inside of the shed.

It was pretty spacey, with a quad parked in the middle of it, a lot of stuff on the shelves and some clutter in the back.   
“A farmer’s heaven, huh?” Daryl muttered, looking around.   
“Yeah, probably belongs to whoever owned that field out there,” Rick waved his hand, indicating the field that could be seen right behind the shed’s only window.   
“Mhm…” Daryl hummed, walking closer to the cluttered space. Rick went after him, watching as Daryl stuck his hand between some old wooden boards and retrieved a half-empty bottle of scotch. “Definitely a farmer’s heaven.” He smirked and placed the bottle on one of the shelves. Rick would have smiled, had he not been so tired.

He looked around, ducking his head a little, then leaning forward when he spotted a very characteristic tin box.

_Coffee!_

He reached out to take it, when Daryl grabbed him and tugged him away, grunting out a quick _“Rick!”_

The whole mess of boards, buckets, and other shit went down over his head, a wooden panel hitting him right next to his eye, and Rick cursed, stumbling back. His left eyebrow throbbed and he brought his hand up to press against it reflexively, wincing when he felt his fingers slip.

_Marvelous._

“Rick?” Daryl’s frantic palms were on him in an instant, turning his head and pulling away his hand, shining a flashlight over the side of his face until Rick hissed at the brightness of it.   
“Stop!” Rick muttered, and Daryl growled, _actually growled at him._   
“Don’t move… _fuck,_ that’s deep,” Daryl commented, staring at Rick, left hand gripping Rick’s chin firmly to stop his head from jerking away.   
“How bad?” Rick asked, frowning, hissing when even that small movement hurt.   
“‘Bout an inch long, right under yer eyebrow.” Daryl grabbed the flashlight with his teeth and, with his right hand free, touched around the cut tentatively. Rick grunted in pain, because yeah, it fucking hurt.

“Yer eye okay?” Daryl asked finally, drawing away and grabbing the flashlight again.   
“It will be when you stop shining that at me.” Rick grumbled, finally freeing himself from Daryl’s hold and turning his head away. “I’m fine,” he added, looking around again. Daryl stared at him, eyes narrowed.   
“We should shack up here fer t’ night,” he said after a moment.   
“There’s still light outside,” Rick observed, surprised, glancing through the window. It was getting dark slowly, but they could probably make it back.   
“‘S gonna snow again. An’ we have to go through whatever’s here. Will take time,” Daryl muttered, already browsing through the shelves. Shrugging, breathing out a quiet “okay”, Rick went to join him.

 

-&-

 

They had gone through everything that was inside the shed in a little over an hour, and by then, the evening was well underway. Once they packed the supplies into their backpacks - a few cans of baked beans, some canned fruit, and other useful household items - Daryl pushed the quad outside, barricading the doorway with it. He tied a tarp they had found to the branches twining around the entrance, making an improvised door, then took an old, half-rusted bucket and punched a few holes in it. He put some tinder inside, added a few pieces of wooden boards they had found, and started a small fire.

Rick watched him work, sitting on a blanket that they had spread on the ground some time earlier, marveling at Daryl’s survival skills. The way the man moved reminded Rick about their time in the woods - precise maneuvering, decided hands that carried out tasks regardless of their size or importance. Daryl handled the wood with the same focus he handled his crossbow… _Or Rick’s body._

That thought made Rick pause. Since they had had their moment in the woods a few days ago, Rick had been feeling better. Maybe that small physical release hadn’t been something life-shattering, but Daryl’s closeness and support had done wonders on Rick’s psyche. The world was still grim and dark, but he didn’t see snow covered in red anymore, and when someone said something funny, he could actually smile a bit, before his thoughts wandered off to the dark corner of his mind again. Just like they did now, when he watched Daryl open two cans of baked beans to set them to warm up over the fire.

“We should save it for the others,” Rick murmured quietly, staring into the fire.   
“Ya need t’ eat. Me too, fer that matter,” Daryl answered, side-eyeing him.   
“I’m not even hungry,” Rick tried, knowing well that he couldn’t really lie to Daryl. The hunter had some kind of a sixth sense when it came to Rick, and it was frighteningly accurate how he could read him perfectly.   
“Mhm, and yer not even bleedin’,” Daryl gruffed out, stirring the beans. He let them sit over the fire to warm and turned to Rick, squinting at the cut just under his eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Rick protested, aware that Daryl would start fussing over it.   
“I know.” Daryl nodded, then moved away to dig through one of the pockets of his backpack. He pulled out a roll of medical tape, then came to sit close to Rick, who just went on glaring at the fire stubbornly. “Hey,” Daryl prompted, one hand moving to turn Rick’s head gently towards him. He waited, until Rick raised his eyes and looked at him properly.

“I know yer fine, but the whole side of yer face is covered in blood,” Daryl murmured, brushing his thumb just shy of Rick’s cheekbone. “Lemme clean it off an’ get that cut sorted out, hm?” He proposed quietly.

When Rick failed to give him any answer, too overwhelmed with Daryl’s proximity, the hunter leaned in and pressed their mouths together.

_Which didn’t really help._

Ever since their moment in the woods, Rick had been thinking about Daryl and what they had done there. It was his safe space, his one go-to memory, something not yet stained with the reality they were living in. Carl was a wonderful kid, but he was a kid living in the apocalypse. Lori, with her thinning frame and growing belly was another can of worms he didn’t want to open on daily basis. But he had to think of _something_ during the quiet time, when they were keeping watch or getting ready to sleep and trying not to freeze over during the night. Rick had taken to thinking about Daryl and his capable hands, about Daryl’s stormy-blue eyes and his surprisingly soft lips.

Those lips were currently trailing away from Rick’s mouth, sliding to the side and getting scraped with the beginnings of his beard. Rick gasped when Daryl’s tongue came into play a second later, surprisingly hot against his chilly skin. _Everything_ was hot suddenly, and for a moment, Rick let himself forget that the snow was falling outside again and that they were all cold and shaking, in the middle of nowhere, fighting against the winter weather.

“Daryl?” Rick mumbled questioningly when Daryl started to just lick all over his cheek, small, short flicks of his tongue that were way too illogical to feel sexy. Shockingly, they did, and Rick could feel himself getting hard inside his trousers, before his brain connected the dots and came up with a conclusion - Daryl was licking off his blood. And it wasn’t only cleaning up, no, he was doing _more._ For some reason, it felt almost like a blessing, like Daryl staking a claim over Rick and caressing him all at the same time. It was slow and unhurried, every drag of Daryl’s tongue sending a thrill down Rick’s spine, making his back arch in excitement.   
“Lemme help ya,” Daryl whispered against Rick’s ear, so quietly it was barely audible. “Please.”

It was the _please_ that finally broke Rick’s resolve. He gave a small nod.   
“Okay,” Rick breathed out, opening his eyes when Daryl drew away. He had licked all the way up to Rick’s eyebrow, carefully avoiding the cut itself. He squinted at Rick, then took out his water bottle.

A few minutes later, Rick was trying to keep still while Daryl patched him up. He had cleaned the rest of the blood off with a wet rag, then pushed a can of warm baked beans into Rick’s hand to keep him occupied. He was almost done with closing up the cut - it turned out that Daryl was very handy with the medical tape, too - when he spoke again.   
“Why dontcha want my help?” The question was murmured in a low voice, and Rick frowned, chewing on a bean. _It was a good question too._ Rick let himself think on that for a bit, shoveling more food into his mouth - he had only now realized how hungry he actually was.

The side of his face was still tingling in places where Daryl’s tongue had been pressed against his skin, and Rick had a hard time stopping himself from leaning up into Daryl’s careful fingers for more caress. He had always been like this - he liked to touch and be touched, even in a friendly way. A pat on the back, a hand on his shoulder… it didn’t matter. Right now, with Lori being distant, _with his own decisions at keeping her at an arm’s length,_ Rick missed all those simple human touches. He could have that with Daryl.

_Then why was he so hesitant?_

“Lori,” Rick muttered finally, gulping down some water from the bottle still standing nearby. Daryl frowned down at him, sticking the last bit of tape over the cut, pressing it to the skin gingerly, no doubt making sure the improvised stitches would hold.   
“Hm?” He hummed, his questioning gaze meeting Rick’s.   
“You know how it went with Lori…” Rick explained, shrugging, looking down at his almost finished can of beans. After so long without a proper meal, a whole can was almost too much to eat in one sitting.   
“I ain’t Lori,” Daryl gruffed back at him, finally getting busy with his own dinner. He didn’t say anything else for a long time, but he stole glances at Rick, each and every one of them making Rick feel a bit warmer inside.

 

-&-

 

“I set up walker traps, we can get some rest,” Daryl announced, stepping back into the shed and closing the tarp behind him. Rick nodded, scooting over on the blanket and making space for Daryl to take. The hunter grabbed a filthy-looking quilt they had recovered from one of the boxes standing under the shelves and covered them both with it, before he stretched out on his back next to Rick, his head pillowed on his backpack. He wriggled in place a bit, trying to adjust, before he gave up with a sigh and closed his eyes.

He was slowly drifting off when he felt Rick move closer, shuffling in increments, until their bodies were pressed together. It created a wonderful kind of warmth that spread through Daryl’s body, and he couldn’t really stop himself from reaching over and wrapping one arm around Rick’s shoulders, keeping him securely against his side.

The next thing Daryl knew, he was being woken up by an arm squeezing him almost painfully around his waist, a slurred murmur loud in his ears. He couldn’t really make out the words - _or their sense_ \- but Rick seemed pretty distressed, so Daryl shook the sleep off quickly and turned to face him.

Rick’s brow was furrowed hard enough to make the cut well up with blood, a small drop of it traveling slowly down the side of Rick’s face, dark and glinting in the moonlight illuminating the shed. He was still muttering something unintelligibly, and Daryl brought his hand to his face carefully, to try and wake him up. The first attempt went unnoticed, but with the second one, Rick stirred. He blinked his eyes open slowly, staring at Daryl in confusion. It lasted only a moment, and then his eyes were clear again, sharp even in the half-darkness around them.

Daryl knew what Rick would do now - he had spent enough time with that man to know when he liked to avoid a topic that hurt too much, and the topic of his nightmares was still a big issue. Rick was the kind of man who would ignore his own impairments the best he could and push on, until he either made it or collapsed under the strain. Fighting bad dreams was no different - ignore them the best he could.

Not wanting to let Rick turn away and try to sweep whatever was happening in his own head under the rug, Daryl leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

The kiss was soft, only passionate enough to keep Rick’s mind focused on here and now, and thankfully, it seemed to work. Rick’s body uncoiled bit by tiny bit, his hand unclenching from where it was fisted in Daryl’s vest, fingers slowly inching around his chest in a loose embrace. Rick let himself be kissed, never pushing for more, answering every curious stroke of Daryl’s tongue with his own. Gradually, he started to make small noises - just huffs and small groans, but they were music to Daryl’s ears. He felt stupidly happy for causing them, too, so he frowned when Rick pulled away finally, looking down between them, panting to catch his breath.

“Daryl…” he mumbled out, and Daryl couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question. He hummed anyway, feeling like some kind of a wolf answering his mate’s call with his own howl. Rick swallowed, before he tried again. “I… I need…” When he trailed off this time and looked down, it was with a sharp inhale that sounded suspiciously like a bitten off sob.

“I ain’t Lori,” Daryl reminded him for the second time that night. “Tell me,” he prompted gently, tilting Rick’s head up so he could look into his eyes. They were nearly black, whatever blue paleness had been present before was now gone, replaced with want so deep, Daryl could feel it echoing in his own damn _bones._ “Show me,” he told Rick, diving forward again and kissing him once more, this time letting his teeth sink into Rick’s bottom lip, drawing a quiet moan out of him. It didn’t take long for Rick to start acting after that.

He moved hesitantly, trembling hands finding Daryl’s clothes and opening them, pulling the sides apart slowly, just to press against Daryl’s bare skin. Rick started low on his abdomen, then carefully moved higher, splaying his fingers as far out as he could. It made Daryl gasp, the cold air around them sneaking in and making him shiver… _or were it Rick’s palms trailing over his flesh?_ Daryl wasn’t sure… but it didn’t really matter. What was important was Rick’s fiery gaze and his hands still groping around Daryl’s body, so Daryl let himself relax.

Soon, Rick’s hands were gliding back down, setting Daryl’s nerves on fire when they dipped just under his waistband, Rick’s eyes searching his questioningly. Daryl gave a small nod, then hissed when Rick unzipped his trousers and slipped one hand inside. The fingers were surprisingly warm when they wrapped around his length, Rick’s skin - roughened up by survival - making Daryl tingle all over. He couldn’t really stop the slow rocking motion his hips started to make, bucking up into Rick’s fist and seeking more contact. Rick wasn’t deterred, though - he tightened his hold and pumped his hand a few times, sighing in delight as if it was his cock that was being stroked deliciously.

That small sound prompted Daryl to move, too, and he placed his hands on Rick’s belt, tugging a bit and drawing him closer, until he had clear access to the zipper. Wasting no time, Daryl unbuckled and unzipped Rick’s jeans, putting his gun belt quietly to the side within easy reach. Then, he focused on Rick, who was stretching above him and leaning in for a careful kiss which Daryl reciprocated with mindless abandon. He smiled when he felt Rick moan into the kiss, the vibrations traveling through their mouths and echoing in the pit of Daryl’s stomach with liquid heat.

He plunged one hand into Rick’s open trousers and pulled his dick out, quickly wrapping his fingers tightly around the hot length.  
“Oh…” Rick gasped out, leaning back a bit, his eyes dark and unfocused. His gaze raked over Daryl’s face, before he turned his head to the side and pressed his mouth to Daryl’s neck, licking a fiery trail up his sensitive skin.   
“Fuck…” Daryl gruffed out quietly, licking his lips. “Come on,” he murmured, picking up the speed of his own fist stroking Rick’s cock. He could feel the hand on him move a bit faster, too, and he let himself relax into the blanket laid out underneath him, arching his back when the pleasure started to overwhelm him.

Rick kept on kissing his neck, and it became more sloppy and uncoordinated the longer they went on. Daryl let out a moan when Rick sucked on a particularly sensitive spot just under his ear, and the cock in his hand throbbed, precome leaking out of it and slicking Daryl’s hand nicely, easing the slide. The way Rick’s hips bucked into his fist made sparks of electricity thunder down his spine, and he moaned again, closing up the loop and feeding their arousal, until it was finally too much for the both of them.

Rick came with a quiet whine, muffled against Daryl’s shoulder when Rick bit into his jacket. Daryl followed him just a few seconds later, spilling warm and adding to the mess between them, writhing on the ground when Rick just kept on stroking him through it.   
“Rick,” he mumbled, stopping Rick’s hand when it became too much. His own was still wrapped around Rick’s length, but he didn’t move it anymore, just held it there as the flesh slowly softened. Rick shivered against him and slid to the side, stretching next to Daryl and tucking his face into Daryl’s shoulder.

“Ya okay?” The hunter whispered, reaching to his backpack and pushing one hand inside, frowning while trying to find a pack of baby wipes he had put inside earlier. They had found two unopened packs on the shelves earlier, and Daryl smirked when he realized just what kind of farmer’s _heaven_ this place had been before - there had been a stack of dirty magazines underneath them. Daryl had packed them, too, hoping they would be good to start a fire with.

Finally finding the wipes, Daryl brought them up and opened the pack, then took a couple of them out and cleaned himself, then turned to Rick.   
“May I?” He asked gently, smirking when he saw Rick frown, his face half-shadowed from the moonlight falling in. Daryl held the wipes up in explanation, and Rick nodded reluctantly, tugging his shirt and jacket a bit to the side, giving Daryl some space to work with. He cleaned Rick’s abdomen gently, then used a fresh wipe to get out as much of the mess as he could from the clothes.

Tossing the dirty wipes to the side, Daryl lied back on the mattress, turning to face Rick. His friend was staring at him, eyes sleepy, a satisfied half-smile forming on his beautiful lips. Daryl leaned in for one more kiss, before he covered them with a blanket and dragged Rick close, settling in for the rest of the night.

 

-&-

 

The next morning, Daryl was woken up by a wolf howling somewhere in the forest. When another one joined it, Daryl peeled his eyes open, glancing around to assess the danger. Finding none, he looked at Rick, noticing a mop of slightly curly hair resting peacefully on his shoulder. Rick was buried under the blanket to the point of having his nose covered with it, and Daryl smiled seeing that. He gave in to the urge to run his fingers through Rick’s hair, finding it soft and delicate, and he started to wonder what would it look like if Rick let it grow out a bit. Would it get all curly? Or would it flow down in waves? He smirked, imagining Rick with a very cocker spaniel haircut, but then he thought about tugging on that hair while Rick sucked him off, and suddenly, it wasn’t funny at all.

Shaking his head minutely to clear it, Daryl tried to roll away to get up, but Rick’s arm around his waist prevented him from moving, tightening and keeping him in place.   
“‘S early,” Rick mumbled, nuzzling into Daryl’s jacket a bit, giving a small yawn.   
“There’s wolves ‘round ‘ere somewhere,” Daryl noted, but he gave up on his plan at getting out of bed.   
“They’re not getting closer,” Rick observed, yawning again.   
“Oh yeah? Ya a forest man now?” Daryl asked, squinting at the mop of hair, until it moved and Rick looked up at him.   
“The volume’s been the same for the past four howls… they’re not coming closer.” And with that, he settled down again, rubbing his hand absentmindedly over Daryl’s side.

Swallowing the worry at hearing about Rick sleeping light enough to hear the wolves howling for god knows how long now, Daryl thought about changing the topic.  
“How’s yer eye?” He asked after a moment, and Rick shrugged.   
“Hurts about the same,” he said with a sigh. Daryl didn’t buy it.   
“Lemme see?”

With a huff, Rick leaned back and shuffled around a bit, until he was lying next to Daryl on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. It gave Daryl a clear view of his face and particularly, the wound - the cut was angry red and puffy, and there was a bit of blood dried on the side of it. Rick’s eye was a little swollen, but it wasn’t as worrying as the dark bruise forming in the hollow just above his cheek.   
“Shit, ‘s swollen,” Daryl observed, touching his finger carefully to the cut. Rick gritted his teeth, but didn’t as much as twitch when Daryl felt around it, making sure the fine bones weren’t broken. “Yer head hurts?”   
“No. It’s fine, it’s just the cut,” Rick explained, and Daryl nodded. He would have Hershel look at it when they get back, but for now it didn’t look too urgent.   
“We should get movin’,” Daryl gruffed out, stretching, then levering himself up. Rick sat up, too, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

To be fair, it had been the most Rick had slept in the last few weeks, and even if it still wasn’t enough, he definitely felt better than yesterday. It would be hard to get back to the others, even if Rick really wanted to be with them again - he would miss Daryl’s closeness. It wasn’t even that what they had done in the night was exceptionally important… Rick had a feeling that the fact that Daryl had been sleeping next to him had been the real reason why he could lie down and rest at all. Maybe Daryl wouldn’t be opposed to changing their sleeping arrangements when they get back to their group?

“Hey, Daryl…” Rick started, but trailed off, uncertain. He didn’t know how to ask this. _Will you sleep with me?_ No, that sounded bad. And it seemed ridiculous, taking into consideration that he was a fully grown man and didn’t need to be coddled like a small kid.   
“Yeah?” Daryl prompted, turning around and looking at him when the silence became too obvious. Rick shook his head.   
“Nah, nothing,” he muttered, turning around and getting busy with folding up the blankets they had slept on.   
“What is’t Rick?”   
“Nothing. Just… forget it,” Rick sait, hoping desperately that Daryl would just let it drop. After a curious gaze boring into the back of Rick’s head - something that Rick could actually _feel_ \- Daryl went on, preparing for their departure.

 

-&-

 

Late afternoon brought a snowstorm that almost buried the little house under a ton of white fluff. Rick was sitting in a corner, gazing out of the window at the overwhelming whiteness outside, shivering against the chill that somehow found its way inside. His whole group was bundled up together - Hershel and Beth under a fluffy blanket, Maggie spooned up against Glenn, Carl and Lori buried under a patchy quilt, Carol and T-Dog with a spacious comforter over their shoulders. The only ones not paired up were him and Daryl…

Rick dragged his eyes to their hunter, spotting him near an old-fashioned fireplace. He was crouching down in front of it, poking the embers to bring some more heat. Rick frowned when Daryl cursed and stood up, then walked out of the little house. Rick watched him go, absentmindedly noticing the _woosh_ of snow Daryl let in when he stepped out.

He was back a few minutes later, covered in white flakes and shivering badly enough to be seen even from a distance. He had his arms full of chopped up wood, and Rick raised his eyebrows at him in surprise.   
“Where did you find that?” He asked, eyes following Daryl when he went over to the fireplace and started putting the wood inside, poking the embers once more and blowing into them.   
“There’s a shed nearby,” Daryl rasped, sniffling when his nose protested the sudden temperature change. The fire was getting bigger, the wood catching on and giving off white smoke that was immediately sucked up the chimney.

“And it just happened to have some chopped wood?” Rick shook his head, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders. He didn’t like the idea of Daryl walking around in such weather… he positively _hated_ the idea of him getting cold just to chop up some wood that would probably be too wet to burn properly. Daryl just shrugged.   
“Figured there’d be some. ‘S wet as fuck, but it’s always somethin’,” he muttered, poking the embers one last time, smirking when the fire flared a bit. He stood up, then, and walked over to Rick, grabbing his backpack on his way to the corner of the room. He took out a blanket, the one they had used in the farmer’s shed earlier, and spread it out next to Rick.

“Come on,” Daryl said quietly, nodding to the improvised bedding, before he sat down, leaving Rick some space.

Rick didn’t need to be told twice - he was cold, and with every passing minute he felt more and more miserable, sitting alone and looking at the rest of their group

Shuffling awkwardly, he moved until he was sitting right next to Daryl, their backs to the wall, thighs touching. Rick offered him one corner of his blanket, which Daryl took with a small nod, and wrapped around his own shoulders, stretching it between them and shielding their backs from the cold air around. Feeling the warmth quickly building between them, Rick had to squish the urge to lean up against Daryl, forcing himself to sit stiffly at his side.

It all changed when the night fell and their family went to sleep. It was still snowing heavily, so they decided to forego a watch shift - nothing would be getting through in that weather anyway. They were all still more or less in the same spots, lying down or half-sitting, speaking in hushed voices that carried through the darkness. Rick had gone out to take a piss, then came back, trying hard to stop his teeth from chattering. If the winter didn’t let up soon, they would be in deep shit… well, _deeper than now, anyway._

He made his way to their blanket, then froze, shining his flashlight slowly over the spot.

Daryl was still there, but he wasn’t sitting anymore - he was lying down, his back to the wall, a space big enough for Rick to fit in left unoccupied on the blanket invitingly. Rick frowned, then sat down on it. He turned the flashlight off and placed it near his backpack, before he turned to Daryl.   
“My ass got numb,” Daryl gruffed out in the darkness, a smirk evident in his voice. Rick huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, and just like that, he felt himself getting more at ease with the situation.   
“Yeah, mine’s complaining, too,” he replied, smiling.   
“Mhm… go on, then. ‘S pretty comfy,” Daryl prompted, one of his hands appearing on Rick’s arm and tugging him down.

Suddenly, the fact that they were in the same room with everyone didn’t matter. It was dark around, but surprisingly, the darkness didn’t make Rick feel insecure right now - not when Darl’s arms came around him the moment he lied down, not when Daryl’s warm body pressed to his back and their legs tangled together under the blanket. Rick sighed contentedly, feeling Daryl shuffling a bit behind him, getting comfortable. And then, there were soft lips touching the nape of his neck, and a breathy little “sleep” whispered into his hair.

Rick slept.

And if he woke up on the next day with their family acting suspiciously normal, well… he didn’t need to know that it was because of Daryl glaring at them over Rick’s shoulder for the better part of the morning, daring them to say anything about their leader snoring peacefully, curled up in the hunter’s arms.


End file.
